Bat Shorts
by AJCrane
Summary: Quick single one shots that sometimes come to me when I least expect it. Some are very short others a little longer. Some might even have one or two parts. Enjoy. They may be borrowed, but I do my best to take care of them.
1. The Fall

The Fall

By

AJ

He fell, silently, his eyes closed. He could feel the wind on his face, burning his skin with the force of a hurricane. Then suddenly he abruptly stopped. He opened his eyes and the arm that held him, gripped him around his waste so tight his ribs surely would crack. There was fear in the other's eyes, fear of loss, and so pain-filled it nearly brought him to tears.

"I got you," the one that held him close held so tightly onto the rope that it surely cut through the glove and into his hand.

They swung to the ledge and looked at one another.

"What happened?" the one that fell asked.

"You were knocked out and the madman threw you off. I couldn't let . . ."

"Thanks for catching me."

"You knew that I would? What if I missed?"

"There's no way you would have missed."

"How do you know?"

The man placed his hand on the other's chest. "Because of who you are in here. You are Dick Grayson of the Flying Graysons. And you were born to not only fly, but to catch as well. You are my catcher when I need you."

Dick Grayson smiled behind his Robin mask. "Let's go get that madman, Batman."


	2. Struck

A/N: Based on Nightwing New 52: Traps and Trapezes.

/

Struck

By

AJ

The strike came as a complete surprise to me. I felt myself being propelled backwards. I shouldn't have been surprised, but you don't expect to be backhanded by a fist as powerful as a freight train. I don't regret what I said, but I do regret coming at him like I did. Still, I feel Bruce should have known by now where my loyalty lies. I hope he realizes that. I've got my own problems to resolve, and one of them might be accused of murder. That would be just up his alley, but would he first see me as a possible criminal, or would he see the truth, that someone is trying to frame me.

I can't help remembering when I was much younger, just a kid really. Ten years old, and scared out of my wits. Seeing my parents die and not being able to do anything about it. And realizing that someone had murdered them just for the sake of some money that Pop Haly didn't really have. Then learning years later there was a big secret that Pop Haly kept, not just from me but from everyone else. Maybe he got sick of the whole charade. He seemed to regret it in the end. My great-grandfather, alive? I still don't understand how that was even possible, but rather than ask Bruce about it . . . I don't know. I guess I just lost it. The look on Bruce's face though was one of betrayal. He looked at me with such . . . I can't describe it. I just knew that I had to prove him wrong, that I didn't care who the guy was (I mean whom, sorry Alfred, I know my grammar goes to hell when I'm angry or upset). For the past few years, Bruce seems to have lost a lot of trust in people. Used to be you could arrest a criminal and hope that prison would reform them, but . . . now nothing seems to work. And don't get me started on Arkham. That place is a joke. Seems to make the crazies crazier rather than helping them to heal.

I know, I'm rambling. Damian would say it's a weakness of mine. I can't help it. When I get ahold of an idea, sometimes my mind and my mouth runs away with it. When it does come down to it, I guess I am still a little scared as to what's going to happen, more about Bruce than about the bad guys. They don't scare me anymore, but Bruce does. I don't know. I just want him to feel something. It seems he's lost that ability, to really feel. He used to, but the way he's been acting . . . Boy I really must have struck home with my words big time. And because of it, he nearly broke my jaw. Well, I'll leave it. If his strike leaves a scar, I'll wear it. Maybe it will be a reminder for me to stop and think first before I open my mouth. Bruce isn't always right you know. In fact, he does make mistakes. He's not God. He's got to be reminded that he's not perfect. I could probably bring Batman up on charges for assault, but I probably would have to bring him in, and that wouldn't be too pretty, not by a long shot.

What hurts the most isn't the fact that he struck me. What hurts the most is he would think that I would side with my great-grandfather than with him. I just hope he realizes before it's too late that I've looked toward him as my father far longer than I've known my Dad. I only had my Dad for 10 years. I've had Bruce a lot longer, which is scary. Maybe the next time we see each other, I just might try to remind him of that. Then again, there may not be a next time. Maybe it's high time I visit the Court of Owls and see if I can't erase my name from their books once and for all. A Talon, me? I'm just a simple performer and flier at heart. I've never really wanted to be anything else, until Bruce came along. He made me into something much more.

Still, I just hope he realizes that I'm not going to turn criminal. It's just not in me. Maybe I should knock some sense into his head. Nah, I'd probably break my hand against his jaw.


	3. Nightmare

Nightmare

By

AJ

"NOOOOOOOOO!" screamed the young man, his eyes wide with terror. "MOM! DAD!" NOOOO! NOT YOU, TOO!" He watched in horror as they fell, as they all fell. Tears streamed down his face as if it was yesterday. His heart raced with the anguish that he would never see them again. He clutched the blanket and rocked back and forth, still in the throws of the nightmare that was all too real. He sagged back on the bed, turning on his right side and curling into a ball. Why now? Why after all this time? Then he remembered the date. He had not visited them in so long. And the pain in his chest reminded him that he still ached for another, a man who became his father in all but name. If only . . . "No, no, no. He doesn't need me any more. He doesn't . . . want me." The young man knew he should just dismiss the nightmare and go on, but he could not. He had lost so much, his parents due to death, a home and friends who loved him but he could not stay, and now another home, and another father, all due to his pride and a misunderstanding. The young man was the one who walked away. And then the young man found out he had been replaced, in every aspect. The feeling of loss stayed with him for that year. He tried to become something that he wasn't, and lost something that was so precious to him, that he no longer knew who he was to anyone, even to himself. He felt lost, alone, and afraid. The night terrors returned in force, the last one being the worst. If only . . . but pride kept him from returning, pride and the fear of ultimate rejection.

'I'M . . . SO . . . SORRY," he said, crying out his anguish out the open window into the night air. "PLEASE, FORGIVE ME," but in his tortured heart and mind, seeking absolution, he didn't know if the other would even hear him. He turned away and buried his face into his pillow once more poring out his broken heart.

Then a voice faint and gentle reached his ears, that at first he wasn't sure he heard it. He turned his tear stained face toward the open window, but there wasn't anyone there. A soft footfall, barely audible caught his attention and he turned to see a shadow far deeper than the rest.

"It is all right. I am here," the tall shadow said, and it moved forward to engulf the young man in its embrace.

"I . . . I . . . didn't think . . . you'd come . . . because," the young man's words would not come through the tears that continued to fall.

He felt the shadow lift him into his arms and held him close, "Don't you know by now I will always come when you really need me?"

"I . . . thought . . . you didn't care . . . any more," the young man wailed.

"How could you think that?"

"You . . . have a son . . ."

"No, I have two."

The young man's eyes narrowed. "I don't understand."

The shadow didn't answer. "Your nightmare called me. And I would not be here if I didn't care. I know what this night means to you. Ten years ago they fell. And it was ten years ago that we joined together. You are still a part of me, as I am a part of you. You are my son just as much as you were the son of your parents."

"What about . . ."

"He isn't you, and he needs someone to help him learn."

"I . . . think I understand."

"Go to sleep," the shadow said. "I shall watch over you until dawn."

"But . . .What about?"

"You were in trouble, and that is my job. To watch over you and to catch you when you fall."

The young man moved back to the bed and weariness overtook him. He felt the presence of the shadow watching over him, protecting him from the nightmares. All too soon the young man was waking up to the sound of the birds chirping in the trees and the shadow that protected him was gone. He frowned at first thinking it was just a dream, until his eyes fell on the note.

"I will always be there when you truly need me. That is my oath to you.

B"

The young man smiled as hope soared in his soul. Though others might see the shadow that held him in the night as the nightmare, the young man saw that shadow more than ever as his guardian angel. Dick Grayson got up to start his day with a spring in his step, and hope in his heart.


	4. Failure!

Failure!

By

AJ

He failed. He failed to protect his back, and now Batman was giving him the cold shoulder. Why was this happening? He couldn't keep his mind on what he was supposed to do. Between splitting his time at Hudson University, The Teen Titans, and being Batman's partner, his energy seemed to be failing him, and because of him, Batman was hurt. Not severely, but enough to warrant a lecture, reminding him what he had signed on for, that he had promised to watch his partner's back. There were no excuses. Rather than face the lecture, he took off his uniform and handed it to his partner. The disappointed look in Batman's eyes was enough to let him know he had failed, and failure wasn't an option.

Behind his mask, Bruce watched with an aching heart. He knew Dick was struggling, but he didn't know how to help him. And with Robin's costume in his arms, he also felt like he failed the boy. Perhaps if he gave him some time, allowed him some space. He didn't need to lecture him right now. Batman turned away and placed the uniform in the vault. It would be there for him when he returned, but something in his heart was breaking, and he didn't know why.

Alfred watched the slumped shoulders of the young master. Something happened while they were out in the field, and the youth wasn't happy. He recognized the moods the young man was going through, having seen it with Master Bruce. Master Richard was having growing pains. He was going to have to face the fact that all young men grow up, whether they want to or not. Failure was a part of that, and how you handled that failure showed maturity. For now, he would allow the young master his space until he was ready to talk about what happened. It was the least he could do.

Dick Grayson woke up from the nightmare covered in sweat. It was still the middle of the night and he had barely been asleep for two hours. Bruce and Alfred were probably asleep and he didn't feel like talking about what just woke him. The dream was so vivid. It was his fault and he knew it. He couldn't stop it from happening. And he couldn't face it again, the disappointment, the anger, and the fear. Bruce, lying bleeding at his feet and Alfred accusing him of murder, even though he hadn't done the deed, he still felt like he failed him. The room felt stifling. Dick realized it was Sunday and he would have to return to the University. Finals would be coming up and lately he hadn't been doing well in his classes. There had been just too many distractions. Rather than face Bruce and Alfred, once the sun was up . . . no pun intended . . . though he could never really be called Bruce's son either, he might as well pack his bags and leave early. He couldn't face the disappointment he knew would be there. He was already punishing himself for what happened, turning in his Robin uniform, which he felt he didn't deserve to wear. He could hear Robin's voice in his mind.

"You idiot! What's wrong with you? Why didn't you protect him?"

'Because I can't do it any more,' Dick screamed back in his mind. 'I'm worn out! Burned out! I need time.'

'Will you come back, will you let me out again? You shut me away! Don't leave me here!'

'I'm sorry.'

Dick packed his bags and fled the house, trying to get away from the ghosts of his past. And inside Robin's heart was breaking.


	5. Forever Thankful

Forever Thankful

By

AJ

It was Thanksgiving, a time to be thankful for what you have. There are many who see the Holiday as a means to eat a lot of turkey and watch football games. For some, it's the biggest meal that they look forward to every year. In some schools, plays are being performed about the First Thanksgiving, the first year that the Pilgrims came and survived one of the harshest winters they had ever seen. For one, Thanksgiving became just another day in the life where if he wasn't out there, someone would be, doing things to disturb other's Thanksgiving. Then there is the other, new to the household Thanksgiving was a time to get together with family, a very large family that included more than just humans. On this day, though it was the first Thanksgiving without that.

Dick Grayson woke up to the quiet peacefulness of the Manor, a peacefulness that was punctuated with the silent hitching of the sobs that he tried to muffle. Dragging himself out of bed, he went to his private bathroom, disrobed and climbed into the shower. He let the water fall on his face and down the front of his body so no one would know that he had been crying. He felt alone, but this 10-year-old boy wasn't alone. Not really. He supposed after 15 minutes he was going to have to leave the confines of the bathroom. Dick turned off the water, grabbed a nearby towel, and drying himself off, he moved back to the bedroom to find that someone had made his bed and placed out clothes for him to wear. They were the fancy kind, a button down shirt, a sweater to go over the shirt, a pair of slacks, and shoes and socks that he might have worn to church, if he ever attended. His parents would take him on Holidays like this one.

"It's so we can give thanks to all those who came before us," his father said.

"And to be thankful for what we have," his mother would add.

'Perhaps Alfred could drive me, but I don't know what church I would go to,' he thought. Then he remembered that Bruce had a small family chapel in the mansion in the West wing. Bruce had told him that his father had built the chapel in memory of all those patients he couldn't save. He wanted a reminder that he was human and humans make mistakes. Saving lives was a doctor's calling, but not all lives could be saved. Now it stood as a memorial for Bruce's parents. He had taken Dick to that chapel before his parent's funeral. Though his parents had been buried in Newtown three days after their deaths, it had been a means for him to gather his thoughts before the procession. Now Dick walked into that chapel and sat up near the front, thinking about his parents and all they had done for him before that fateful day. His thoughts though soon strayed and he started to think about the man who took him in. It started because he wanted revenge for his parent's deaths. Bruce, however, turned that anger into something more than just the need for revenge. He showed him that there were other children in the world who didn't have the means to help themselves. There were many more whose lives were forever changed because of loss. Some were able to rise above it and there were those who became so bitter that they took their anger out on the world, becoming like the very criminals that took the lives of others.

"Why do you do this?" Dick asked Bruce one day. "Why not just take revenge?"

"Because revenge doesn't ease the pain and you can't bring them back. Believe me, I thought about it. And I nearly did take revenge on the man who killed my parents. A good friend reminded me that I was better than that. And committing a crime for a crime, that's not justice."

"So, what did you do?"

"I left, then trained myself to find ways to bring justice to those who didn't have it."

"But you work outside the law?"

"Actually, I work so the law can be preserved. My methods for apprehending those criminals that the police would not be able to handle might be different, but we work toward the same ends. The police might have ended up gunning down those criminals or getting killed by them. By helping to apprehend them, and even helping to get evidence that the police might not be able to obtain, I ensure that those criminals will stay behind bars for a long time."

Dick had thought long and hard on Bruce's words and he realized he had been right. His parents would not have wanted him to take revenge. They would have wanted him to do what was right.

Dick raised his head up to the large cross that had been suspended from the ceiling. Along with the cross there was a stain glass window with a burning challis off to one side. It was a flame of hope and truth. Six months later after they had taken down Tony Zucco, Dick came to this chapel once again to gather his thoughts, and he found himself repeating the vow that he made with Batman, but this time, the vow wasn't being made out of anger. He made it out of love, love for his parents and the growing love that he had for the man who became his guardian. And today, he was here, in this place to say thanks.

"I just want to say thanks for everything. If it hadn't been for Batman saving me not only from Zucco, he saved me from myself. And even though Batman is Bruce, I want to thank Bruce for taking me in. My circus family couldn't because someone thought I was too young to be there, that they might exploit me, but . . . they didn't understand we were a family.'

Dick sniffed as a tear slipped by.

"But I have a new family, one smaller than the circus. I have Alfred and Bruce. Bruce gets so sad sometimes. I see it in his eyes, but I'm here now, and I won't let him be sad for long. He's my new Dad. I hope you won't mind me calling him that," Dick said, referring to his own father, John Grayson. "I mean, I still love you and always will, but Bruce needs me. He needs me to help him, to watch his back, and be his partner. I'm not ready to take his name yet. Maybe some day. Maybe I'll be Richard John Grayson Wayne, but not right now. I'll let him know some day. You really would like Bruce. He's not like the person he pretends to be. That's just another mask he wears. Anyway, I better go. Alfred has a big Thanksgiving Dinner planned. Don't know why, there's only the two of us, no the three of us. Even so, it's not like anyone else is going to be here. I wish . . . anyway. I'll come back another day and sit. Thanks."

Dick was about to leave when he stopped himself. "Oh, I forgot one thing. I am thankful for everyone who has gone before me, for everything I have now . . . and for . . . for Bruce and Alfred. Without them, I probably wouldn't be here, and I'll be forever thankful for that. Happy Thanksgiving."


	6. The Love That Was Lost

The Love That Was Lost

By

AJ

"Hey Bruce," Dick called out to him and waved, then rushed forward to the waiting car.

"How was school?" I asked my ward.

"It was okay. Where's Alfred? He usually picks me up."

"I got out early from my Wayne Foundation business and I thought I would meet you after school."

"Great! After I do my homework, can we do some sparring?"

"You sure you want to Dick? You're not fully recovered from that spill that you took earlier."

"I'm okay," Dick replied. "How else am I going to learn? Mom always said that when we fall, we learn to pick ourselves up again."

"Sounds like your Mother was a wise woman."

As Dick continued to chat about his day at school, I could not help but feel a pang of jealousy at how Dick remembered his parents and the love they shared. I am reminded all too much of the loss that seemed to drive out the love in my heart. For years I was alone, driven to find the man responsible for my parents' deaths. I trained myself to perfection to fight and to put fear into those who would harm others. I kept that part of myself deeply guarded, not wanting to feel any emotion, just the hate that drove me to be the Batman. I did not think anything would ever enter that empty space within my heart . . . no my soul.

Until . . . I look over at my ward, a great big smile is on his face.

"What are you grinning at?" I ask

"You," Dick answers. "I've tried to get your attention for five minutes now, and you've been lost in thought. So, it is that new girl everyone's been saying you're dating?"

"Huh, no," I reply. "Just thinking about the past, old chum. So, what were you telling me?"

"Well, I don't know. It's really stupid. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

"Dick, tell me before you talk me out of it."

"Okay," Dick hesitated then I saw something in his eyes that troubled me. "Well it's parents night at school . . . and well . . . you're not under any obligation to go . . ."

'Uh Oh,' I thought. I could see the pain in his eyes, being the only kid in his class who had a guardian and not a parent. Alfred had heard the other parents whispering when he had gone in my place during the parent teacher conferences. It was a sobering reminder. "What did they say?"

"What?"

"What did some of the kids say to you?"

"You don't want to know," Dick said, turning his head toward the window.

"Tell me," I say, somewhat sternly. I really do want to know whether I was going to have to have a serious talk with someone.

"They . . . They called me a charity case," Dick said, his voice down to a whisper. I looked over to see a tear slip down his face.

"What else?"

"They said . . . That you . . . don't love me. That you only . . . took me in because . . . you feel sorry for me."

I could see Dick's chest start to rise and fall a little faster, as his breaths came quicker, trying to fight the emotions that were becoming overwhelming. Seeing Dick struggling with the hurt broke something in me. As Batman, I took Dick Grayson under my wing to help him, to make sure that he had the tools to protect himself from people like Tony Zucco. As Bruce Wayne, I took in the orphaned boy to raise him in a home . . .

I stopped the car at that moment and turned toward Dick.

"Look at me," I stated, but Dick continued to keep his head down. I took my hand and turned his face upward to face mine. I could see the liquid pooling in those deep blue eyes; eyes that Alfred had said looked so much like my own. I looked deep in those eyes and I saw the one fear that this boy should not have had to face. It probably was the reason for his nightmares, and why they continued to persist since Zucco's capture. He too had lost the love of his parents, even though he continues to talk about them as if that love was still there. I suddenly realized this boy . . . this wonderful boy . . . was reaching out, telling me in his own way to love him . . . to be more than just his guardian. I didn't realize that's what he needed, until now.

I brush away the tears streaming down his face, and something inside me fills the hole that had been empty for so long.

"You know what?" I ask. "They're wrong. You will never be a charity case. And you know why I took you in."

"To . . . To keep Zucco's men from finding out that . . ."

"Yes, that's one reason," I state. "But there is another one."

"What?"

"You see, all the time you thought I was saving you, you were saving me."

"I . . . I don't understand." Dick frowned.

"I may not say it very often. Ever since you came into my life, things have changed. You've brought a light into a very dark place . . . And . . . I will be honored to take you to Parents Night at the school."

"You will?"

"Of course . . . son."

"Son?" Dick's eyes grew wide.

'I hope you don't mind if I call you that once in a while," I said. "I know how much you loved your father . . ."

Dick suddenly grabbed my by the neck, hugging me tight. "I didn't think . . . I mean I was afraid . . . they might be . . ."

"Right?" I finished the word for him. "I can say without a doubt that they are wrong. Okay, that's enough," I said. "We better get home before Alfred thinks about sending out the cavalry. You know how he worries sometimes."

"Thanks Bruce," Dick grinned that wide grin that captured my heart without my ever realizing it. We shared a common bond brought on from the murder of our parents, but Dick's heart continued to love despite it, and now, he has given me back what I thought was lost. The love of family.


	7. My Father's Eyes Are Blue Part 1

A/N: Damian is confused about who Dick's father is. Dick answers Damian's question (from Where Loyalty Lies), which causes Damian to rethink his place in the family. Will he be pleased?

/

My Father's Eyes Are Blue

By

AJ

Part 1

Damian knocked on Dick Grayson's door, having seen that the light was still on in his room.

"Yes," Dick said, a little distracted.

"May I enter?" Damian asked.

"Sure, little brother, what can I do for you?"

"You can answer a question that has been puzzling me."

"What's your question," Dick stated.

"You said your father's eyes were gray and yet . . . What color were your Mother's eyes?"

"Hazel Green actually. Sometimes they looked more hazel and other times they looked green."

"But why are your eyes blue?" Damian questioned.

"Because I got the color from my Dad," Dick answered.

"But you said your father's eyes were gray, I do not understand."

Dick had to smile at Daimian's eleven-year-old naivety. For all Damian's knowledge, he was still naïve about life. "Let me see if I can explain this. Even though I was born to John and Mary Grayson, John wasn't my father. He was my father where it really counted, but . . ."

"You mean your biological father was someone else?" Damian questioned. "You mean your mother gave birth to a b. . ."

". . . Don't say it, please," Dick swiftly cut Damian's last word off.

"Do you know who he is?"

"I know who my father is." Dick said. The look on Damian's face caused Dick to pause. He didn't want to hurt this kid whom he has gotten to know, so much like Bruce and yet Damian was his own person as well. It was as if he was given a special gift, watching Bruce grow up, but Damian wasn't Bruce and Bruce was back among them, learning to cope with the fact that he had a family again.

"So, tell me."

It's rather complicated," Dick said. He moved to his desk and pulled out the papers that Bruce had given him when he was 15 years old. He had been ecstatic to learn the truth, but at the same time, he didn't want to hurt the memory of the father that he had known for the first ten years of his life. That was why he had chosen not to take the Wayne name, but maybe it was about time that he did.

"Um, my father . . . see he . . . took me in . . . without knowing who I was either."

"WHAT?" Damian's eyes narrowed. What was Grayson saying? That his father was . . . no it couldn't be. He was Bruce Wayne's son. His mother told him. Grayson couldn't . . . "You're lying."

'Well, that went well,' Dick thought. He knew that Damian might not believe him, so he kept the papers that Bruce had given him. "Here, read it for yourself," Dick handed Damian the folder containing the information.

Damian's eyes scanned the sheet. 99.99% He looked up at Dick Grayson, his eyes wide then he dropped them on the floor. 'I . . .I'm not the heir,' he thought. 'No . . . this can't be happening.' Damian raced out the door, trying get away from his big brother. 'I have to think.'

"DAMIAN WAIT!" Dick raced to the door, but the littlest Wayne was gone.

Continues with Part 2


	8. My Father's Eyes Are Blue Part 2

A/N: Damian is confused about who Dick's father is. Dick answers Damian's question (from Where Loyalty Lies), which causes Damian to rethink his place in the family. Will he be pleased?

/

My Father's Eyes Are Blue

By

AJ

Part 2

It took Dick Grayson two hours to find Damian. He didn't expect to find him in a fight with their father, Bruce Wayne.

"WHY DIDN"T YOU TELL ME WHEN I FIRST ARRIVED!" Damian yelled. "Didn't I have a right to know? When were you going to tell me, when I was his age?"

"Damian," Bruce sat calmly at the computer, letting his son continue to rant for a few seconds more.

"What were you thinking? That I wasn't old enough to know? You should have told me the FIRST DAY!

"DAMIAN!"

The quick sharp command of his name snapped Damian out of his rant. The scowl remained on his face, apparently still angry with his father for keeping such an important secret.

"Damian, I don't know what you're talking about. You come storming down here . . ."

"I'm talking about GRAYSON!" Damian interrupted.

"What about your brother," Bruce asked, as he continued to enter the results from the Strige Case.

The word nearly infuriated Damian further, yet he couldn't deny what the DNA test results had shown. Richard T. Grayson was more than just the adopted son of Bruce Wayne. He was Bruce Wayne's first son, born to a lowly circus performer, and more likely heir to the Wayne fortune. Damian almost cracked a smirk at that thought. 'His Mother probably would go ballistic if she knew.'

"What . About . Your . Brother?" Bruce asked again a bit more slowly and turning toward Damian so he had his full attention. He briefly saw that Dick was standing up on the stairs.

"Don't call him that!"

"Told you didn't he?" Bruce surmised. "It's about time. I was hoping he would get you to see the truth."

"What do you mean?" Damian's eyes narrowed.

"If you remember Damian, I told you about Dick when you first arrived, that he was your brother. But you refused to acknowledge him."

"BECAUSE HIS NAME ISN'T WAYNE! IT'S GRAYSON!"

"Did you ask him why he didn't take the name Wayne? It is his legal right."

"LEGAL . . ." Damian didn't say anything at first, then crossed his arms and admitted, "No, I didn't."

"Damian, listen. When I met Dick, I had no idea who he really was, that he was my son. I saw an angry ten-year-old who lost his parents because someone murdered them, just like someone murdered my parents. He was going to go to the police, but the police of Newtown were corrupt. Most of them were in Boss Zucco's pocket. He would have been dead within two hours if he had reported it."

"So, you took him in because you felt sorry for him," Damian's words were biting. "He should have died," Damian muttered. "I thought I was your only true son. You should have told me."

In the background Dick flinched, as he listened to his father and brother. Damian was really upset, and he didn't blame him, but the words Damian spouted out cut Dick like a knife. He thought Damian cared for him after all they had been through together. Dick walked back up the stairs to his room, shaking his head trying not to let the hurt overwhelm him. To hear Damian say he should have died, that shook Dick to his core.

'He's just upset. It's going to take some time for him to adjust. Who are you kidding Grayson. You know how Damian has felt. He's made it clear on several occasions, even when I was Batman. He believes he's Bruce's only biological son. Well, maybe if I leave for a while, if I can't get him to see reason, maybe Bruce can.'

Dick walked back to his room and pulled a suitcase out of his closet and packed what he could. He looked back at his room and sighed forgetting about the papers that were still scattered on the floor. He grabbed his jacket and keys and quietly left the Manor.

/

A/N: This is turning out to be longer than I thought. I will post the extended version of this story. For now, Dick has left and we don't know what happened after. Did Bruce talk with Damian further? Did Damian see reason? Read more in the extended version of this story. Posting will begin soon.


	9. Nightmare Come True

A/N: This takes place after Bruce disappears. Dick thinks he's dead at first. It also takes place before Battle for the Cowl and The Return of Bruce Wayne.

/

Nightmare Come True

By

AJ

"NO!" It can't be. It just can't be! Are you sure?"

"I don't know. I saw his body placed in some kind of capsule . . . Then it . . . vanished."

"I don't believe it! I WON'T BELIEVE IT!"

"We've got o inform Damian." Nightwing said quietly. "And you know what this means. A battle will be coming."

"I don't care! I'll find him. I don't believe he's dead."

"Damn it Tim, his body vanished. I saw it with my own eyes. They . . . "

"NO Nightwing. You may have seen his body, but did you touch him to know for sure?"

"I couldn't get near him," Nightwing admitted. And the face behind the mask turned away. He covered his face with his hands and cried. He and Bruce were finally working out their issues and he was starting to get to know Damian. And now . . . 'This will break Alfred's heart,' he thought. 'It's broken mine. How can we go on without him?' Then he remembered Alfred's words 'to carry on,' but, 'How do I carry on when the father that I've known far longer than my biological father is gone?'

"Well, I won't accept that he's dead. You might be able to, but I can't."

"Robin wait," Nightwing tried to get Tim to see reason.

"Don't call me that," Tim argued. "I'm not Robin, not without him. Years ago I argued with you when Bruce became out of control. I told you that Batman needs a Robin. You told me not to lecture you about him until I cared for him and LOVED him as long as you have! Well Dick, you can't say that to me any more. I've been Robin the longest, and I've learned to not only care for him but to love him as much as I loved my own father. You can't stop me. I'm going after him! You cannot get me to believe that he's DEAD! For once ROBIN needs a Batman as much as Batman needs a Robin."

Tim turned his back, taking off the mask and the uniform. It was the first time that he truly noticed that Tim had modified the uniform and he liked what he saw, but now Robin was walking away. Dick Grayson peeled his own mask off his face. Why couldn't he get things right. Was he wrong? Was Bruce still alive? He didn't know. Tim wasn't there. He didn't see the bloodied and bruised face of the man, the torn uniform that left no doubt at what he saw. It was just as it had been in his nightmares. The ones that lately he had been getting for three days straight. Dick walked over to the case that contained the new uniform that Bruce had designed, the one that he would never wear. He remembered a time when Bruce had been broken and Bruce asked if Jean Paul would take up the mantle. Somehow Bruce knew that Dick really wasn't ready and knew that Dick had issues he needed to work on, but when Bruce came back and fought to regain that mantle, Dick felt pride fill him and knew that Bruce had returned, but it was short lived. Suddenly, Bruce was asking him to put on that cowl, almost apologetically.

"I accepted it, but at the same time, I had my doubts. I guess I was still angry that he chose Jean Paul over me. And just when I was starting to get used to the idea, Bruce came back again. And now . . ." A tear slipped down Dick's cheek and he wiped it away. He lifted it up his head and his face was superimposed on the cowl perfectly. For a short time, Tim had also been his Robin. And now Batman the one that really counted, the one that everyone knew, was gone.

'Well, Gotham is going to need a Batman. And Tim was right, Batman is going to need a Robin."

And it looks like the only one available is a pint sized trained assassin who was supposed to be asleep upstairs.

'It's rather odd,' Dick thought as he turned to stare at his original Robin costume in the case. 'Bruce told me how he made that costume and met up with one of the best detectives in the business so he could learn to be one. The detective even called Bruce Robin. And it was the very same costume that Tim, Jason, and I wore. Now I'll be asking of all people, Bruce's son . . . my brother to put it on, to become Robin. I bet he'll look real cute in those pixie boots. Nah. Maybe it's high time I make some changes to the uniform. I've always wanted a hood, but Bruce thought the criminals would take advantage of it. And maybe the boots could be higher, even hold some pockets for more weapons.'

Dick hesitated for a moment. 'I can think about that later. There's a duty I have to perform. Despite Tim's belief, the world can't know that Batman is dead, but Bruce . . ." Dick started choking up one more time. "God Bruce . . . if you are alive somewhere, I hope Tim finds proof. This is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. I have to go on without you and pretend . . . pretend you are dead. I just hope this living nightmare will end some day. Because this world needs you . . . I need you. I'm not good without you. Dad, please, if you can hear me. Come home!"


	10. A Moment of Silence

A Moment of Silence

By

AJ

A moment of silence, a pregnant pause, waiting for words to be born. It can be brief and carry with it the sudden burst of noise like a shot out of the blue. It can be long, waiting patiently for whatever may come, a life to be born, a prayer to be spoken. A moment before action is taken.

A moment of silence; that is what is often called for when there is a tragedy, to give thanks, or before a word of praise. So much is said in a moment of silence than when there is a room full of people chatting about inconsequential things.

Batman looked down upon the city, relishing in that moment of silence, that moment just before he puts into action his grappling hook and speeds to a crime scene in progress. He looks over at his partner and sees the same look that was in his eyes moments ago.

And he realized this is why he does this, for those moments of silence, those moments that give him hope, that some day, he and his partner will no longer be needed. And those moments of silence will be carried all through the night, peaceful and still.

End


	11. Friends Phone: Suicide

_A/N: Dick Grayson does a two-hour shift on the Friends Phone, a hot line on the Hudson University Campus where fellow students lend support to fellow students, whether it is just to hear a friendly voice or to help a troubled student through a difficult time. One night Dick Grayson receives a call that leaves him shaken and wishing he could have been able to do more._

Reference: Robin Issue #227 Story: I Think I'm Dead!

Friends Phone: Suicide

By

AJ

"Hello, this is the Friends Phone, can I help you?"

"No one can help me," the voice on the other line said despondently.

"Well . . . um what's the problem. I'm sure if you tell me . . ."

" . . . I can't do this any more," the voice said. "It's just hopeless."

"Nothing is hopeless. If you give me your name . . ."

" . . . I don't want to live . . ."

" . . . No, don't talk like that . . ."

" . . . I don't want to live . . ."

" . . . Please don't talk that . . ."

BANG!

"Hello? HELLO! Oh my god," Dick Grayson said as he slowly put down the phone.

"Dick?" Russ asked his fellow "Friend Phone" helper. "You look like your best friend just died."

"Dick, you've gone pale," Tina stated. "What's wrong?"

"I . . . I . . . I need to get some air," Dick said. Dick got up and left the Friends Phone office, taking his briefcase.

"What's with him?" Russ asked.

"I don't know."

Dick Grayson left the building that housed the Friends Phone office. He almost ran into several students as he wandered across campus in a daze. He couldn't believe what he heard. Somehow, he made it back to his boarding house and realized he had left his VW bus parked on campus. He had to go back and move the vehicle before it was towed. His mind though replayed the last phone call, wishing if only he had been able to do more.

'I've got to talk to Bruce,' he thought, 'Ask him if . . .'

For the moment, he wouldn't get that chance. Police sirens came closer and then he noticed his landlady Mrs. Higgins was standing outside crying. Dick watched as the police pulled up.

"Mrs Higgins," Dick approached, "What's going on?"

"Oh Mr. Grayson, it's just awful, just awful."

A New Carthage patrol car stopped in front of the Higgins Boarding house and an officer stepped out of the car.

"Did either one of you called about hearing a gun shot?"

'Gun shot?' Dick said then his eyes grew wide. 'The caller.'

"I called," Mrs. Higgins said. "The shot came from the upstairs, the room in the front and to the left."

'That's Jeff Thompson's room,' Dick said. 'Why didn't I recognize his voice?'

Dick followed the officer up to the second floor. His training as Robin told him that it was necessary. Sure enough, the caller had been Jeff. Dick could see the blood that had pooled around Jeff's head where the bullet had entered. With what he could see, Jeff had bought a small caliber handgun. Lying beside Jeff was the receiver from the phone, still off its hook, and buzzing.

"Looks like he made a call," the officer said. 'I wonder to whom."

"Um, I can answer that," Dick said.

"And who are you?"

"Richard Grayson, officer."

"So, what do you know about it?"

"I volunteer at the Friends Phone office on the campus. I was the one who received the call."

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here," Dick answered. "My room is on the third floor in the back. I came home after . . ."

"Tell me what happened."

"As I said, I volunteer at the Friends Phone office on the campus. I work a two-hour shift once a week. I was near the end of that shift when a call came in."

Dick explained how the person on the other line was despondent and he tried to get them to talk, but then heard the gun shot. "I . . . I didn't know what else to do."

"Sometimes there's nothing you can do. When a person is determined to take their own life they will."

"But why?" Dick asked.

"What do you mean?" the officer asked.

"Why did they take their own life? There's got to be a reason."

"They don't have to have a reason," the officer said. "I better call this in and send for the coroner."

Dick didn't accept the officer's explanation. There had to be something more than that. Jeff had been a likable guy. He didn't seem to be the despondent kind. What could have caused him so much pain as to take his own life?

"I think I'm going to go up to my room, Mrs. Higgins. Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Oh, you are such a caring boy," Mrs. Higgins said. "I should be fine."

Dick left his landlady and went to his room. He didn't have much time. He changed into his Robin uniform and silently entered Jeff's room. He did his own thorough search and found a few letters mixed in with Jeff's regular mail. The letters were not something he expected. They were hateful and seething. They hinted at things that only others would say in whispers. The last letter was the worst. It was so filled with hate Robin could not believe what he just read. Dropping the letters on top of the stack, he fled the scene, back to his own room, his chest heaving. He couldn't believe that ordinary people could have such venom in themselves, venom as to cause someone to take their own life. Not only that, the venomous words had come from Jeff's own father. Ripping off his mask, Robin became Dick Grayson again. His heart ached for the young man, and his eyes watered, threatening to spill. To say such things to your own child, the idea was _anathema __to_ him. Bruce would never say such things to him. He had always been encouraging, always gave him a reason, and helped him to understand the consequences of what might happen. The thought of not being there for Bruce, and Bruce not being available for him suddenly crashed down on Dick. Rather than writing Bruce a letter, Dick went to the hall and picked up the payphone. Putting in several quarters, he dialed the number.

"Wayne residents," Alfred answered.

"Alfred, it's me."

"Master Richard, how are you?"

"Alfred, I really need to speak to Bruce."

"What is it?"

"Please Alfred, it's important?"

"Of course Master Richard, we can talk another time."

"Um, the operator might break in and I don't have enough change."

"I'm sure Master Bruce will see that the charges are reversed when he learns that it's you calling and your need to speak with him."

"Thanks Alfred."

"One moment."

Dick waited for less than a minute when he heard his guardian's voice on the other line.

"Bruce," Dick started to say something when suddenly the tears came, "Um . . . I . . ."

"Dick is something wrong?"

"I . . . just need to . . . hear your voice."

"Dick, I've never known you to get homesick, what's going on? I can tell you're upset. You know you can talk to me."

"A friend of mine . . . " And Dick realized that Jeff had been his first friend when he arrived in New Carthage. "I lost a friend today. I tried to help him, but . . ."

"But what?" Bruce coaxed, his voice soothing and gentle.

"He committed suicide."

"Oh Dick, I'm really sorry. Please tell me what happened."

So, Dick told Bruce what happened, from when he got the phone call through the call center, hearing the gun-shot over the phone, and discovering when he got home, whom it was that took their own life. He also told Bruce about finding the letters in Jeff's room, and what they said.

"I never knew just how much words can hurt," Dick said. "I just realized that words can even kill. I'm just glad I can talk to you."

"You can call me any time, and I'm glad that you did."

"I . . . Bruce, there's one more thing," Dick stated. "I . . . I know we don't say this very often to each other but . . . I'm glad you took me in when my parents were killed. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there for me. I . . . love you."

There was silence only for a moment.

"I . . . love you, too, Chum."

"See you at Christmas . . . Dad."

"See you at Christmas . . . Son."

/

_A/N: When I wrote this last night, I was thinking about a friend of mine who died back in college, my first year. I don't normally get homesick either, but I was thinking about all these shootings, and how the shooter would end up committing suicide. Well anyway. Back in 1979 (and yes I am that old), I had a friend commit suicide, my next door neighbor in my college dorm. She was a likeable girl and I found that her and I had similar interests, especially in J. R. R. Tolkien. Her father wanted her to be in premed and become a doctor, while she discovered her love for music. I suggested to her that she could do both, but I got the impression that her father was very strict and maybe even thought that musicians were lowly people. She felt trapped. I lost her that spring. And every now and then I think about her. There are two kinds of people who would commit suicide, those who are so angry they take multiple lives before they take their own, and those who are so much in pain they feel trapped. My friend was of the latter, trapped and feeling alone. At the time, I was with my fiance (before I married my current and only hubby) and I could not help her. I had a bad feeling about not being with her and that night she . . . Well needless to say, when I returned to campus the next day, I was told. I never got to say goodbye because her parents didn't want anyone from college at the funeral. I think they felt ashamed. This story is in memory of her. Her name Nancy Penner, and I think of her often and miss her._


	12. YOU'RE FIRED, DICK!

Fired!

By

AJ

"YOU'RE FIRED DICK!"

Those words echoed in his head, words that he didn't ever expect to hear from Bruce. What's happened to him? Why has he suddenly become so cold toward him? He tried to explain, that the Teen Titans took longer than anyone of them expected, but Batman didn't want to hear any excuses.

'As if that's an excuse, it's not. If only he would have listened. He would have realized it wasn't my fault.'

Robin removed the old uniform and placed it neatly on the chair in the room that he found himself in. When Batman threw him out of the cave, he left with just the uniform on his back. With tears blinding his vision he didn't know where he was heading. All he knew was that he had to get out of there.

'I know the past two years have been tough, me going off to college, having been kidnapped twice, once by Ravek then by Ra's al Ghul . . . Why is Bruce . . . no Batman. Why is Batman questioning my commitment? I took an OATH, but . . . I'm not him. Why can't he see that? I'm not doing this out of revenge like the way he is. He'll be the first to deny it, but I know. I've seen it in his eyes. I'm doing this because he gave me a chance to find my parents killer. Well, I did that. I could have stopped then, but I didn't. I thought my parents would have wanted me to continue to do this, to do what was right. Now I don't know any more.'

Dick remembered the last time this happened. He had been nearly beaten to death by Two Face. And out of fear, fear that Batman could not protect him; Dick had been fired. Robin had been taken away from him. It hurt, it hurt so much that he couldn't be what he wanted, what he needed to be, so he ran away. Dick wasn't Bruce's son. He was his ward. He still was his ward. Dick didn't come into his majority until he was 21 and at this point he couldn't wait.

'Well if Bruce doesn't want me in the cave, fine. But I can't stay at the Manor either. I can't play the part of a spoiled playboy's son. And Hudson isn't doing me any good either. Bruce would kill me if he knew how my grades have slipped. I'm usually an A student, but this past semester I received all Bs. It's not that the course work is too difficult. On the contrary, it's just too easy and I haven't been able to pay much attention to it. I'm just having a hard time with being there. And now I'm having a hard time just being anywhere near Gotham City. Well he can have it. I can take my oath elsewhere.'

Though Dick knew in his heart what he just voiced was a lie. What he wanted was to go back and tell Bruce he was just as committed as he was, but he knew Bruce probably wouldn't listen. The venom in Bruce's voice proved that. Lately, he had been the one to do the apologizing, even when he wasn't in the wrong, but no more. This time Bruce had been wrong.

Dick picked up the uniform and looked at it. They were the colors he wore in the circus. He rubbed his hand along the R in the black circle then promptly ripped it off. He took the cape and ripped it in two. He emptied the utility belt of its contents and tossed that in a box. Each item that he touched Dick damaged it beyond repair. Silent tears streamed down his face as his heart broke for what was lost. Dick wrapped up the remains of the uniform in a brown package and addressed it. He didn't address it to Bruce. Bruce would probably throw it in the trash. The box had been addressed to Alfred. Inside Dick had slipped in two notes hidden in a boot. One note was for Alfred, the other for Bruce along with the uniform . . .Well if he wasn't going to be Robin no one else could either. He knew it was vindictive, and maybe it would hurt Bruce, but Bruce had been just as vindictive in his words. And right now that's all he could think about.

The cold was biting. Dick should have kept the uniform one more day and at least waited until he could get some warmer clothes. He had no choice but to take what he could from the clothing donation box outside of some chain department store. He found an old pair of shoes, some jeans with holes, a t-shirt, and at least a jacket with a hood. He at least would blend in with some of the homeless, for that's what he was now . . . homeless. He remembered to take what money there was in the utility belt. Five hundred dollars might keep gas in his bike to get him to wherever he needed to go, and he could live on the barest essentials, but eventually he would have to find a job. His wallet was back at the Manor. Right now, he had no other place to go except back to New Carthage, but New Carthage and Hudson University will be without their local hero. At least, he knew that Alfred would collect his things and keep them for him whenever he would choose to return for them.

Tears slipped down Dick's face as he climbed onto his bike, remembering the words he had written to Bruce.

'Remember the last time you fired me? You took Robin away from me then, too. Well, I'm taking him away from you now. You may have the uniform, but you can't take Robin away from me completely. My parents called me Robin long before I became your partner. Now the partnership's been dissolved. Don't try to find me, you won't. As for being a crime fighter . . . you said you needed total devotion. Total devotion? To what? I took and OATH. If taking an oath and living by that oath for the past eight years isn't total devotion then I don't know what is. Or do you mean total devotion to you. We both should know that's unrealistic. I'm not that kid any more and I guess you don't need a son after all. You've made it clear you really don't need anyone. You going to tell the JLA you don't need them, only Gotham. I have the Titans . . . You going to take that from me as well? What's left isn't worth very much. Maybe you should have left me where you found me. You would not have been saddled with some ward for eight years and you would have been free to fight crime the way you wanted to and I would be with my parents. Goodbye Bruce Wayne. The next time you see me . . . just pretend you don't know me."

Dick revved up the engine on his bike and headed away from Gotham City, away from Batman . . . and away from Bruce Wayne.

'Happy New Year, Bruce,' thought Dick. 'I hope you find what you're looking for.'


	13. Gone!

Gone!

By

AJ

"Dismissed?"

"That's what I said," Bruce scowled. "Do I have to repeat myself?"

"But why, Sir . . . If I may be so bold."

"He isn't disciplined enough. He's always going off with . . ."

"The Titans? Just as you have gone off with the Justice League?"

"That's different we were doing real . . ."

"Do not assume that Master Richard wasn't doing 'real work,' Sir." An edge entered Alfred's voice that Bruce rarely heard.

"How would you know?"

"Because he would proudly tell me, and if you would listen, he would have told you too. That is all he ever wanted you to do."

"He's got to be committed to this work, 100%"

"And you believe that he is not?" Alfred questioned. "You took the boy in, gave him a purpose, and sent him to the finest school. He worked at your side, day and night, eagerly, never questioning. Then something changed. Did you not want him to make friends of his own? To know what it was to work with a team and be a leader? Go to college? Become a man that you could be proud of? Has he not done that? Or has he squandered what you have taught him."

Bruce didn't answer at first.

"From my perspective, I see a man who wants to be proud, but refuses to allow it. Instead I see a man who is jealous of the boy because he has what you do not."

Bruce swung around, angery once again. "Don't go there Alfred, or . . ."

"Or you will dismiss me?" Alfred said. "You have driven your son from this house. Be careful that you do not drive me out as well. Remember, you are not too old to be turned over on my knee, Master Bruce Thomas Wayne."

"He is NOT my son!" Bruce yelled. "He made it perfectly clear that I wasn't his father."

"No, Sir," Alfred argued. "You made it perfectly clear that you did not wish to be a father to that boy, a boy whom you brought into this house."

"I know why I brought him . . ."

". . . A boy that needed a father more than you would ever know," Alfred continued. "And yet, you were always at his side when he was hurt or ill. You provided advise when he needed it and helped him with his homework. You've seen him grow and become a man and leave this home, a home that you provided. If that is not the definition of a father, then I do not know what is. Now, go after him or I shall, and if I do, then you will not see me again."

"No," Bruce said.

"Still being prideful?" Alfred questioned.

"I don't know where he is," Bruce said quietly.

"Really," Alfred said unconvinced. "You usually keep a tracker on him at all times. And another such fatherly thing to do." Alfred pointed out.

"The moment he left the tracker went into automatic."

"Then you are tracking him?"

Bruce went back down to the cave and saw that the tacking blip that represented Dick had stopped. He checked the location and saw that it was at some seedy motel on the outskirts of Gotham. Then he watched as the blip moved again. It stopped again, this time at the local post office. It continued to blip steady after that.

"What would Master Richard be doing at the post office?"

"Probably mailing a letter," Bruce said.

The blip though continued to remain stationary.

"Shouldn't the blip be moving?"

"He's removed the tracking device," Bruce answered.

"Then we really do not know where he is. Oh Master Bruce, what if he gets hurt?"

Bruce didn't want to admit it, but seeing how Dick had taken down Clayface a feeling of pride had come over him. Dick had grown as a crime fighter. 'I should have said something to him. If I had, maybe he wouldn't have left. But you fired him . . . all because he was late. He'd been late before, why now?" And Bruce knew the answer. Alfred had been right. It wasn't because Dick was late. It was because he'd been jealous, jealous at the fact that the boy could sill laugh and treat crime fighting like it was a game. Jealous that Dick had friends instead of acquaintances. Though Bruce could call Clark his best friend, somewhere long the line, Bruce had driven the other JLA members away. He should have seen this day coming. Somewhere along the way, Dick had grown up. He had lost that young naïve boy and ended up with a stranger. And now it was too late for him to take back what he had said. Dick was gone. And Bruce didn't know if he would ever return.


	14. Resurrection

Resurrection

By

AJCrane

My mind was suddenly awake and aware, aware that somehow I was no longer in darkness. I could hear the pounding of my own heartbeat when before there was nothing but silence. And yet terror and pain gripped me like no other. My body and mind recalled the moment of the explosion. It was a flash of white-hot searing pain, and yet I felt none that I could remember. Then the screaming began. I wasn't even aware that I doing the screaming. Other voices were shouting, though I was barely aware of what they were saying. All I wanted was to get away from the pain.

"HOLD HIM!"

"HE MUST NOT MAKE IT TO THE WINDOW!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaa!"

"GET A SEDATIVE!"

A needle was being shoved into my arm and then suddenly my mind was once again drifting into darkness. The darkness though was not the same because I could still hear my own heartbeat.

"My Lord, what went wrong?"

"He should not have reacted the way that he did."

"Was it because of the way he died?"

"Perhaps. My hope was to return his son intact. That cannot be the case. He will have to undergo extensive retraining."

"Father, I do not understand why you did this?"

"The boy is innocent, Talia," Ra's al Gul stated. "He should not have gotten himself involved. And the Joker, I have found is not a man that can be controlled. He has his own agenda. Therefore I shall relinquish mine in favor of another."

"This boy is not Robin," Talia stated. "Who is he?"

"His name is Jason Todd Wayne."

"The second son," Talia stated. "I was not aware that Bruce adopted another son. He is a handsome boy."

"How is my Grandson today?"

"He is doing well, he has improved in using the shorter blade. Once he has mastered that, we will move onto the larger one."

"See to it that he is well trained Talia. I do not want a weakling for a grandson."

"He is far from being a weakling, Father. He has his father's DNA."

"I am unhappy that you insisted to doing this, but perhaps, he shall be a more worthy successor than the Detective."

/

Days go by and I finally reawaken. The pain behind my eyes and in my mind is gone, but I do not remember much. Several men and women in white coats check my vital signs. They don't speak to me. I do not know where I am or who I am. All I can recall of my previous life is a man in a cowl whose eyes I cannot see. There is something familiar about the image, but I cannot voice it. Then a man in a far different cloak comes in. He has a beard with white streaks running through it and his eyes are like black onyx. Something tells me this man is my savior, but something else tells me I should not trust him. I don't know why, a voice in the back of my head that I should know, but I cannot recall.

"How are you feeling today?" the man asks.

"Different," I reply, my voice scratchy from disuse.

"Do you remember anything?"

"No," I answer. "Do I know you?"

"My name is Ra's al Ghul. I am your mentor."

"Who am I?"

"You're name is Jason Todd. Do you remember what happened to you?"

"I . . . There was . . . " Images of a laughing sinister clown came to me, raising a crowbar and hitting me repeatedly. Was it a dream? The way I seem to be reacting I don't think so. I grab my sides and curl up into a ball. "I . . . I don't remember."

"No matter, you shall remember everything when you are ready. Rest now."

I lay back on my side, the image of that sinister white face with the red laughing grin still in my mind. A name comes to me, and I realize I do remember. I remember everything, the very moment when I died, and the man responsible. I can think of only one thing. To kill the laughing clown. And if I don't, I know someone who will.

End


	15. Tea Leaves

Tea Leaves

By

AJ

Sonya Rosena was a gypsy fortuneteller with the traveling Haley's Circus and Side Show. Most fortunes she told were generally nondescript, ones that people might laugh about and say to themselves it would never happen. Other times she would give a fortune that no one would expect. You see, Sonya had the gift of insight. And on this day, she wished she hadn't.

"Maria," Sonya said. "How good it is to see you these days. You have been practicing?"

"Oh yeah, John has made it so easy for me to learn, and he says I'm a natural."

"May I ask why it is you come to me this day? You seem troubled."

"Oh, I don't know," Mary asked. "I've been having these dreams and I'm not sure . . ."

"You wish me to interpret them, Maria?" Sonya was the only person who called Mary Grayson by her true first name. Maria Grayson, formerly Maria Rochester. Maria was a woman who wanted a far different life than her family wished for her, so without them knowing. Maria ran away two years ago to the circus to become a performer. It was there that she met and married John Grayson, the aerialist and became his life-long partner.

"Please, if you will," Mary asked. "They might not be anything."

"Dreams are strange and profound. They may look into the future or they may simply be about the day. Let me make some tea and we shall see what the leaves say."

Mary waited patiently as the tea steeped.

"Please drink. It shall calm you then we shall read the leaves. Remember to drink only until the leaves are barely covered."

Mary drank the tea allowing the leaves to form in the bottom. She did this a year before with Sonya and it was at that reading of the leaves that told her of Mary's appending marriage to John Grayson. How she knew Mary didn't ask. But what she would learn today would be only half the truth.

Once done, Sonya took the cup then swirled the leaves one more time letting them settle to the bottom. She carefully poured out the rest of the tea and left only the leaves sticking to the bottom of the cup. The shapes they formed were suggestive of what might happen in the future.

"Now let me see." Sonya stared into the cup. She could see four distinctive shapes, two large, one small, and a fourth that she wasn't quite sure what it was. The two larger shapes made her quite uneasy. They were somewhat broken and yet together. Images of death and destruction came to her. The third image she saw a small boy, his face in tears. And the fourth, a shadowy shape that seemed to want to envelope the boy and protect him with a fierceness of a lion. She once again stared at the two larger images and realized whom they represented and the smaller image . . .

'Of course, I should have known, but do I dare tell her this future? It is so strong and compelling, just like the last time. She may not believe me. I can at least tell her part of the truth.'

"What do you see?"

"Let me ask you a question first," Sonya stated.

"Sure."

"You do not have to tell me if it is true or not, but if you wish, then my reading may have a baring on what your answer may be."

"What do you want to ask me?"

"First you have not told your husband?"

"Told him what?"

Sonya gave a little smile, and yet it also was one that was somewhat fearful. She hoped that the reading was wrong and that the answer she was hoping for would not be what the tealeaves had indicated.

"You are with child are you not?"

"How . . . how did you know?"

"The tealeaves do not lie."

"Do you know what sex the child will be?"

"The doctor told me yesterday. I want to tell John, but I don't know what he will say."

"I am certain he will be most pleased with whatever sex the child will be." Sonya stated. 'Please let it be . . . "

"It's . . ." Mary was overjoyed, bursting with wanting to tell someone. 'I guess it won't hurt to tell her. Sonya told me I would marry John and it was true.' Mary placed her hands over her mouth as if she was trying to prevent herself from revealing the secret but in truth, she had to tell someone before she burst. 'It's a boy."

Sonya's heart sank. How could she tell Maria what she saw in the leaves. How?

"Please . . . tell me what you saw," Mary asked.

"I saw . . ." Sonya cleared her throat. "I saw a great joy to come, three flying together, over the world . . ." which was very true, for if she were to interpret the leaves a different way, the larger image behind the smaller could be considered the floor of the tent. While the other two larger images opposite could be seen as bursting with flavor and joy with the smaller image flying between them, if she were to turn the cup upside down, where the images were reversed.

"Oh thank you, Sonya. I'm going to tell John right away. The Flying Grayson will be adding an addition to our act. John will be so happy."

Sonya watched as Mary Grayson left her tent. The small smile of joy turned to a fearful, tearful frown. Oh, why did this gift have to show her this tragic event. She did not know when the event would happen, only that she knew that it would. The tealeaves had a double meaning that, one with joyous beginnings . . . and one with a tragic ending. Sonya chose, however, to bring her friend joy this day, but she could not help seeing that fourth image that seemed to surround the boy. Looking at the image in the cup again, she finally saw the shape for what it was. The shape was that if a bat in flight, its wings outstretched, surrounding the boy in its embrace. She just hoped that was an omen for good.

End


	16. Reducing the Casualties

NIghtwing 102 Recap: Robin was fired by Batman. Dick decides to got to Metropolis to talk to Clark. Superman stops a suicide bomber only to learn there is another. Dick as a civilian tries to prevent the other man from using the bomb by taking it away from him. He rather let the bomb kill him than innocent people.

In this story, Superman brings to Batman a CD containing several video clips showing Dick Grayson's selfless heroic deed. Included on the CD is an interview and what Dick says causes Bruce to regret his final words to his son.

/

Reducing the Casualties

By

AJ

The Zeta tube announced the arrival of a visitor, an unwanted visitor.

'I should have that thing removed.' Bruce thought. 'I have no time for visitors, especially from him.'

"No hello, how are you?"

"I'm busy," Bruce growled as he replaced his mask and covered his eyes with the white shielding.

"I can see that," Kal El stated. "And you know I can see right through that cowl of yours and even know when you're lying. Your heart rate goes up. But I didn't come here for that. I came here to show you something."

"If it's about a case, leave it on the table. I'll look at it later."

"It's about your son."

"He's not my son," Batman replied.

"After what I saw, I think he should be. Then again, he nearly went home to his real parents."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'll be back later if you wish to talk. You may need to after you see what's on that CD."

Bruce heard the sound of the Zeta tube as Kal El left. The disk that the blue clad alien brought sat gleaming on the desk. Batman tried to ignore it as he entered the information from his latest case. His ribs still hurt from the beating he received, a beating that he hadn't had in some time, not since before the boy left. He no longer had someone to watch his back, and he'd forgotten how much harder it was without it. If only . . .

'Don't go there. He should have listened. He was reckless, and went after him without knowing the full facts,' Batman chided.

'You didn't tell him,' Bruce debated.

'He was late." Batman argued.

'You've been late many times,' Bruce pointed out. 'That's no excuse for not sharing information.'

'It was on a need to know basis. Besides the times I've been late I was doing more important work.'

'No more important than what he was doing. Face it.'

'Face what?' Batman growled back.

'Our boy is growing up and moving away from us, and you can't stand that. So, instead of facing the truth, you up and fired him.'

'SHUT UP!' Batman tried to shut out the voice of reason, the voice of Bruce Wayne, the useless playboy that no one needed, and yet, he could not help but face it. Dick had grown, grown beyond what he expected. Reckless? Where did that come from? The boy had always been "acrobatic" in his movements, "grace under fire." When had he ever been reckless?

'He never used to use such movements before,' Batman observed.

'Yes, he had, but in the heat of battle you always found a way to minimize their use.' Bruce pointed out. 'And the past two years he's not been home as often as you would like . . . as we would like.'

'It was you who sent him off to college,' Batman said bitterly. 'He should have been home with me, fighting crime.'

'He wanted to further his education,' Bruce said. "Hudson University is known for its law and science colleges.'

"YOU TOOK HIM AWAY FROM ME!" Batman practically shouted.

"No, you did that, by firing him,' Bruce pointed out. 'What were you thinking?'

Bruce's eyes were drawn once more to the disk that sat on the table. He could not help recall Kal-El's words. "He nearly went home to his real parents."

Dick's parents were dead. How could he go home to them unless . . .

Bruce snatched up the disk and placed it in the slot. The video image captured from several angles showed a young man with Dick Grayson's bearing tearing something away from another man standing on the edge of a building then both were falling. The familiar figure of the young man clutched onto something, as if he was preparing . . . The shape looked all too familiar. The intensity was obvious, and then the face was clear as well as what he held. NO!

'You crazy kid what do you think you were doing! No protection and no equipment . . . '

When suddenly the blue boy scout of Metropolis catches him by the waist and lifts him higher into the air, along with the original man who had the weapon strapped to his chest.

The video changed and the next thing, the young man was being interviewed by of all people Clark Kent.

"What were you doing up there?" Clark Kent asked

"Enjoying the view. I like high places," The young man asked not to be identified so his face was blurred and his voice altered. "Then I saw the man up on the ledge and I'd thought I'd find out what was going on."

"And what did you see?" Clark continued.

"He had some kind of bomb strapped to his chest so I grabbed the bomb from him."

"Why would you do that?" Clark questioned.

"I didn't want to see anyone get killed."

"And yet, you could have been killed yourself," Clark pointed out. "You jumped off of the roof."

"My intention was to try to take the bomb where it would do as little damage as possible . . . but . . . I . . . miscalculated. There wasn't any way to get the river. So I resigned myself to the fact . . ."

"You mean there weren't any places for you to land?" Clark interrupted. "I don't understand. What were you trying to do?" Clark asked astounded.

"I was taught you protect the innocent, even if it meant at the expense of your own life. I wanted to reduce the potential for casualties from several hundred . . . to one."

"What would your loved ones think if you had been killed?" Clark asked.

The blurred face of the young man didn't say anything at first. "I . . . I don't . . . have any loved ones. Not any more. My life . . . "

Batman stopped the CD at that point and using enhancing software, he cleared up the image of the blurred face, knowing whom it was he would see. Dick Grayson . . . his son . . . had saved many lives . . . nearly at the expense of his own. His last words though cut him deeply. The look on the young man's face was the same look he had when he was a child of eight and he was grieving over the death of his parents. Was he grieving the loss of another family . . . our family?

'See what you've done,' Bruce said. 'By kicking him out, you've taken away everything,'

Batman reminded him. "I wanted him to remember what was important."

"The Mission," Bruce stated. "What about family?"

"We have no family. We don't need family."

Bruce looked into the face of his son and remembered his words. 'Reducing the casualties to one.' Then he turned toward his alter ego. 'He didn't reduce the casualties to one. He only reduced the casualties to three, his, Alfred's, and mine. And what would you have said if he had died, had killed himself to save others . . . Batman. He was your partner . . . He swore an oath to you. He would have paid the ultimate price for YOUR mission. Is that what you want?'

Silence prevailed, and for a moment Bruce took control of the man in the mask and wept for the son he nearly lost. Oh there were casualties . . . wounded and in pain . . . And it was going to take a long time for those casualties to heal. Though the wounds weren't visible, they were as bear, raw, and open as any wound could be. And it would take a miracle for them to come together once again.

Bruce heard the Zeta tube one more time.

"So, he's in Metropolis, helping you I take it."

"No," Kal-El answered. "I don't need a partner . . . I already have one . . . When he's not being a jackass."

"So where is he?"

"I don't know."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "He never told you where he was going?" The news surprised him.

"He's not my son to keep track of," Kal-El stated rather humorously.

'My son. I would call him son from time to time.' The ache in Bruce's heart threatened to overwhelm him. His son was gone somewhere out in the wider world and without support. What was he doing? How was he going to live? Where was he going to go? He had no way of knowing now. 'Why did I . . . ' He couldn't even voice it to himself.

Casualties . . .Yes there were casualties . . . 'Oh Dick, I am so sorry. If I could take back what I said . . . I just hope you will forgive me some day.'

End


	17. The Dance

_I noticed that a lot of my Bat Shorts are ones that are somewhat dark and moody. So, I decided to lighten up the mood for this one. Dick is 16 in this one and a Senior in High School._

/

The Dance

By

AJ

It was his senior prom and Dick Grayson was excited about asking the one person he had a crush on since he saw her that first time. He didn't know if she would accept, but he really wanted to take her. The only problem, he would have to ask her father, and he wanted Bruce's advice on how to do that.

"Please, I really want to take her to the prom," Dick asked.

"Dick isn't she a little old for you? Plus, she's rather plain looking."

"I know . . . but I bet if she were to take those glasses off and take her hair down . . . I mean . . . She's got real pretty eyes . . ."

Bruce could not help smile that his ward was beginning to notice girls and just how pretty they can be. "Why don't you ask one of the other girls in school."

"Because . . . well . . . um . . . I kind of like . . . red hair," Dick mumbled then tried to cover up his embarrassment. " . . . And none of the girls that I know . . . well . . . they don't seem to be interested in me. And well . . . since Susie . . ."

'So that's it,' Bruce thought. 'He really must have liked Susie, the head cheerleader. Only she got involved with the Joker's gang. I saw the look on his face. That must have really hurt.'

"Please Bruce . . . ," Dick pleaded one more time.

"Well . . .I don't know. You're going to have to ask her father," Bruce reminded him. "And I don't know if he will go for it. She is six years older than you, Dick. People might talk."

"I . . . I don't care," Dick said. "I mean . . . come on Bruce. I really want to take her."

"Dick she is old enough to chaperone . . ."

"Please," Dick pleaded one more time. "I don't want to take anyone else. But . . . I need your help asking her."

"Dick if you are bent on taking her, you have to be the one to ask her father and ask her."

Dick gave an audible gulp at that. "I mean, can't you help me?"

"To be honest, I think all you need to do is ask her," Bruce said. "She is after all six years older than you and she's a college graduate. She's an adult. I don't think you need to get her father's permission in this case."

"Well, I guess not . . . It's just . . . I'm kind of . . .nervous . . ."

"Are you afraid she might say no?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah . . ." Dick breathed a sigh. "Can you go with me?"

"Go with you?" Bruce asked. "You need some moral support I take it."

"Yeah . . . I mean . . . I've seen you ask a girl out . . . And well . . . You do it so smoothly . . ."

"That's because I've had a lot of practice," Bruce couldn't help smiling behind his hand at that. 'I'd never thought I'd see the day when Dick would show interest in girls . . . but to show interest in . . . Jim Gordon is going to flip.' Bruce rose from the desk he had been working at in the cave. "Okay, let's go to the library."

"REALLY? You're going to help me ask her?"

"I guess I have no choice. Every young lad needs to experience their first dance anyway," Bruce said. 'I just hope he doesn't get his heart broken. Though I don't think we'll have to worry about that right now. Barbara Gordon is just a friend. I'm sure she'll let him down easy when she learns he's got a crush on her and she doesn't feel the same way.'

"HOT DIGGITY DOG!"

"Now wait just a minute," Bruce said. "You just can't go like that."

Dick looked at his attire and realized he had been wearing his Robin costume. "Oh . . you're right. I'll get changed right away and I'll meet you upstairs."

Bruce shook his head. This was going to be one of those days.

End


	18. How To Prank Dick Grayson-Chapter 5

A/N: This idea came from a suggestion by Dream as I Read. Enjoy everyone.

How to Prank Dick Grayson – Chapter 5

By

AJ

Tick . . . Tick . . . Tick . . . Tick . . . "Oh that was a good one," Tim Drake muttered to himself. "That was the first one I ever pulled." Tick . . . Tick,tick . . Tick . . .

A sleepy Damian walked into the living room rubbing his eyes. He heard the sound of typing. Curiosity got the better of him and he looked over toward the garden entrance to see Tim Drake typing away on his laptop at the small café table up against the windows.

"Drake, didn't I leave you sitting there last night?"

Tim didn't appear to hear him, but continued with his typing and talking to himself.

"Oh man that was a good one, too . . . And just when he was going on his date with that society airhead Tammy Richmond. Her father was a general and was a stickler for punctuality."

"Drake, what are you doing?" Damian moved over to the table to look over Tim's shoulder. His eyes became wide when he saw the title of the document that Time was writing.

"You must be joking," Damian stated.

As Tim typed in the next paragraph, Damian could not help but read over Tim's shoulder.

"You misspelled whipped cream . . . And how did you manage to switch it for Grayson's favorite hair gel? They're in different shaped containers."

"That's my secret," Tim replied.

"Then you put what in his dress shoes?"

"Yeah, you should have seen the look on his face."

"Are you going to write about the prank at the restaurant?" Damian asked. "You know the one we did on our vacation with Todd and Grayson was flirting with that waitress." Images of that day almost started Damian laughing but he held back.

"Already in there. That's in Chapter One. That's the reason why I started writhing this little document."

"How many did you pull on Grayson anyway?"

"Before or after Jason came back," Tim replied.

Damian gave Tim a look that held a new respect for his brother, though he wouldn't admit to it.

"Can I tell you one that I pulled?" Damian asked.

Before Tim could answer, both boys nearly jumped out of their skin when they heard the sudden . . .

"YEOW!"

. . . Coming from the dining room. And then the voice of Dick Grayson shouting . . .

"OKAY, WHO PUT THE MOUSE TRAP IN MY CEREAL BOX!"

Bruce came into the living room sipping his coffee. "So, that's where I put that thing."

"BRUCE! I'LL GET YOU FOR THAT!"

Both Damian and Tim turned to look at their father. Each gave the other a Cheshire cat grin.

Then Damian said, "Oh Father, I think you should see what Drake is working on."

The End?


	19. With Knowledge Comes Understanding

**A/N: Damian hasn't been at the Manor for very long. He's already been disruptive by trying to kill Tim. This time he attacks Dick Grayson's parentage by insulting him in such a way as to cut Dick deeply. Bruce reprimands his son in the only way that he knows how, by sending Alfred to him with information about his oldest son, which Damian is required to read. After learning more about Dick and his past, will Damian accept him as his brother? We shall see.**

/

With Knowledge Comes Understanding

By

AJ

"I don't understand," his words echoed through the cave as he watched an angry Dick Grayson runs up the stairs and out of sight. As Dick left the Manor, Damian didn't hear the door slam and the motorcycle's engine start and sped down the drive and out to the highway. "Father, why should my comment affect him? Is it not the truth?"

Bruce stared down at his son, his eyes hiding the anger that he felt. Damian hadn't been here for very long, and he had succeeded in disrupting the peacefulness of the house in more ways than one. First Damian tried to kill Tim when he discovered that Tim was Robin and Batman's partner. Now this thing with Dick. Damian insulted him in such a way as to cut Dick deeply.

"No, Damian it is not the truth," Bruce said, "You do not know Dick Grayson. I suggest you learn more before you say anything more."

"WHAT?" Damian was incensed. How dare he side with Grayson. Who was he anyway? "I'M YOUR SON! NOT THAT . . . THAT PERSON! HE HAS NO RIGHT . . ."

"That is where you are wrong, Damian," Bruce said, trying to keep calm in the face of the storm. "He has every right. He is my son as well."

'NO! No, he can't be." Damian tried to deny what he was hearing. "I am the son of your body, that is what my Mother told me. Grayson is nothing more than just a . . . freeloader."

"Go . . . to . . . your . . . room, Damian." Bruce's words were dangerously close to growling, his eyes narrow.

Damian didn't move at first then thought better of it. He didn't know why his Mother had sent him here. He was wishing he could go home. He was sure his father hated him. Why did he side with that . . . That . . . Person.

'Who was he anyway? Who was he to Father?' Damian sat on the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest. 'Next opportunity I get, I'll show him who's better. He can't be that good.' Even so, Damian could not help but be impressed when he saw Dick Grayson working out in the gym. He went from one apparatus to the next without slowing, trapeze, rings, uneven bars, and back to the trapeze. He had to admit the man could fly . . . but could he fight. So what if his training came from a circus. They were made up of nothing but freaks and side show acts. Grayson was nothing but a fraud. He couldn't have done the things that Father said he did. And Damian somehow was going to prove it.

A knock on the door came and then the butler entered carrying a thick scrapbook under his arm.

"What do you want Pennyworth?" Damian scowled.

"Your father insisted I give you this, young Sir," Alfred said.

"What's that?"

"He did not say. He did say it is for you to read." Alfred placed the scrapbook on Damian's bed then left without another word.

Damian sat staring at the scrapbook trying to ignore its presence, but it was so thick and large that he could not ignore it for long. He moved toward the foot of the bed and opened the book to the first page. Newspaper headlines screamed out at him.

"Billionaire Takes Orphaned Circus Boy as Ward."

Damian turned the page and read the next headline.

"Batman Discovers Circus Murderer"

Circus murderer? What does all this have to do with Grayson?

"Anthony Boss Zucco Sentenced to Electric Chair." The third headline caught Damian's attention and he began reading the article.

"Anthony Zucco, known as Tony Boss Zucco of Newtown was convicted and sentenced to the electric chair for the deaths of John and Mary Grayson when it was discovered that acid was placed on their trapeze ropes . . . They are survived by their son, Richard John Grayson, now ward to . . ."

Damian's stomach felt sick. Murdered, Grayson's parents had been murdered?

'My father said his parents had been murdered, too. Did my father take Grayson in because he felt sorry for him? Was that the reason? I still do not understand.' Rereading the article, Damian was forced to re-examine the words he had said to the older man, the man that his father claimed was his brother.

"That was pretty careless of them that they fell. How good were they if they fell off their trapeze and where are they now? They probably weren't that good to begin with. Maybe they didn't want to be saddled with you so they abandoned you so they could be a two-some. So, where are your real parents anyway, dead? Why don't you join them and leave my father alone."

Damian turned the page to find an old folded newspaper stuck near the back of the scrapbook as if it was a second thought, or that someone had yet to add the article to the collection. Damian unfolded the newspaper to see a family of three staring out of the old photo that was on the front page.

World Renown Trapeze Family Comes to Newtown and Gotham City

World Renown? Damian read the first few lines and was astounded to read about the youngest aerialist to ever perform a quadruple flip. There was a special section just on Richard Grayson alone, and how he learned the trapeze when he was four years old. Even at that young an age Damian could see just how athletic the lad was, and a knew understanding of his older brother was starting to form in his mind. He read about John and Mary Grayson, how they met and who they were and their life as aerialists. Many of the stunts they performed were actually inventions of their own, and to this day, many still copied what the Flying Graysons' created.

Still, Damian did not understand why Father felt the way that he did toward the young man, why he treated him like his own son, when Grayson clearly wasn't. Damian continued to flip through the scrapbook, finding more articles about his father and Grayson, how Grayson won scholarships for his academic achievements, and his achievements on the track team, and on the Math team at Gotham Academy, then the announcement that Grayson would be attending Hudson University, at the age of 16. There were other announcements, some just small notations that would have gone unnoticed, but somehow the person who put the scrapbook together knew they had to be about the young man. On the last page of the scrapbook was a manila envelope, carefully preserved. Damian opened the flap and pulled out the documents that rested inside. What he read caused his chest to tighten.

"Dear Mr. Wayne,

It has come to our attention that for the past 11 years, you have continued to apply for adoption of one Richard John Grayson. With much deliberation and investigation, we have decided to grant your request. Though it is unusual to be adopting what amounts to be a legal adult at the age of 19, we see no reason at this time to deny your petition any longer, since the laws have changed within the past year. We congratulate you on continuing to show a great interest in becoming a parent and providing a permanent home for Richard Grayson.

Sincerely,

Katheryn Michaels

Richard Grayson's Social Worker

Child Protective Services"

So, that's what Father meant by Grayson having every right to . . . Grayson was adopted by . . .

'So, he is my brother technically,' Damian stated. 'Well, I may be able to accept that Father thinks he's my brother . . . But I don't have to like it. I still don't believe he's as good as Father says he is and why he has to be involved with my training.'

Alfred once again came in carrying a second scrapbook. "My apologies Master Damian. There is a second volume."

Damian quickly shut the scrapbook on what he just read. "Leave it on the desk, Pennyworth."

"Very good, young Sir. Have you completed reading that particular volume?"

"No, not yet," Damian stated. Even so, he eyed the second volume suspiciously. What could be in that volume that he did not already learn from the first? The look on his face must have cued Alfred into what he was thinking because his words didn't seem to make sense and yet, they were oddly chilling, as if he had read Damian's mind.

"I assure you Master Damian, the second volume is just as enlightening as the first. The one that you have now is for the public to see whenever Master Wayne has guests who ask about Master Grayson. Master Wayne is quite proud of his accomplishments."

"What about the second volume?" Damian asked.

"That particular volume is strictly for the family. I am certain you shall understand once you see the first article."

Damian could not resist taking a peek after Alfred left. His eyes grew wide as he read the first headline.

"Batman Has a Partner"

"Who Is This Robin?" read the second.

"Colorful Sidekick Helps Batman Battle Crime"

Headline after headline followed. Damian continued to flip through the scrapbook until he got to the end. His eyes narrowed for a moment, then he flipped back to the first page and read the inside cover. The last article was dated only three months after the first one. This was only Volume One? How many volumes were there? Damian flipped through the scrapbook again to see if he could catch any images that someone might have captured, but there were very few.

'How can I judge if this Robin . . . wait a moment . . .' Damian went back and read the first article. Something in the description of Robin caught his eye. " . . . Looks to be around eight years old . . ." he read. 'And Dick Grayson was eight years old when his parents died.' Damian compared the dates on each of the first articles.

'Robin's debut was six months after Grayson had become his Father's ward,' he thought. 'So how long . . .' but the scrapbook did not give any indication. Even so, Damian knew that Dick Grayson was Nightwing and he knew how old he was. 'So that means he's been doing this . . .' Damian had to concede that Dick Grayson was not a fraud after all. 'Father is right, he does know what he's doing,' he hated to admit. 'All right Father,' Damian thought. 'Looks like I owe Grayson an apology. But you will not get me to call him by that nickname of his. Unless I see your name next to his, I will not call him brother until I do. Maybe I should ask him why he refuses to add the name of Wayne to his. Still is father expecting me to read through every volume?'

As if by magic, Alfred appeared once more carrying three more volumes. "These are the rest for the first year."

"Pennyworth, how many of these do you have?" Damian asked. "Does Father want me to read all of them?"

"Actually Master Damian, these particular ones are mine. I thought it best that you know Master Richard's entire life. If you only knew your father as Bruce Wayne, you would only know half the person. The same goes for Master Richard. He is your brother and you should know what his life was like having lived a great portion of his life with Master Wayne and myself. After all, Master Damian, with knowledge comes understanding."

Damian could not argue with the butler on that issue. "Yes, but do I have to read all of this in one night?"

"Only if you plan on apologizing to Master Richard in the morning."

"But he left, I can't apologize to him," Damian pointed out.

"Well then, you had better think about apologizing soon. I would suggest you re-read the Grayson volume again, this time paying attention to the first six months as well as learning all you can about his past."

"What about . . ." Damian's eyes fell on the other volumes that Alfred had been carrying.

"Those you may read at your leisure, young sir."

Damian sighed then thought on Alfred's words. 'With knowledge comes understanding. Well, if I didn't understand before, I'm beginning to, but if I have to be hugged by Grayson one more time, I'll slug him. Oh yeah, he's not here. Well, if I intend to apologize to Grayson I better have my facts straight.'

And Damian once again, picked up the volume on Dick Grayson and began to read.

End.


	20. My Brother Is

A/N: Damian's thoughts from Injustice: Gods Among Us. I know in the regular Batman Universe, Dick probably would never die. Reading Injustice: Gods Among Us #16 killed me. I intend to follow this story to see where it leads. If Damian will be back or how they will be handing this 'future.' I'm so glad for the alternate story where Tim goes back in time to stop Lois Lane from being killed and Dick from dying. Though this little story came to me with regarding Damian and how he must have felt after it happened.

My Brother Is . . .

By

AJ

"I . . . I'm sorry . . ." Tears streamed down his face.

"You . . . what did you DO?"

"He always . . ."

"WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"I didn't mean to . . ."

"GET OFF OF HIM!"

Those words echoed in Robin's ears like a death knell. He never thought his heart would ache so much. Why did he let the anger get the better of him? Why did he have to throw that stupid baton? Why . . . Why . . . Why . . .

When everything happened and time seemed to stop, even the villains were shocked. They couldn't believe what was happening.

All Robin could remember was being shoved aside by his father like some . . .

For those agonizing moments, no one moved. The fighting had stopped and the villains were heading back to their cells as his father moved forward and knelt in front of . . .

He could feel Superman's arm on his shoulder trying to give him comfort, but there was no comfort to be given.

All he could see was his father kneeling . . . The look of horror on his face.

As everyone turned to watch his father picked him up cradling him . . . On one side were the villains and on the other were the heroes lining up as his father moved down the center silently.

'NOOO!' Robin screamed in his mind. He stood behind everyone, watching as his father carried him out into the pouring rain, until he couldn't stand it any more. Robin fled. The war between the villains and the powerful heroes like Superman and Wonder Woman was forgotten. He knew at this point if he were to return to the bat cave, Batman would kill him. He had done the unthinkable. He had done the unforgiveable. Like Cain had done to Abel, he had killed his brother. And for once, he knew what it was to feel true sorrow. It should have been him . . . not the light of the family. Not Dick, but that light had died, just as easily as Superman had killed the Joker. Now thinking on the events . . . he realized why his father refused to kill even one villain . . . because it was just too easy.

Once he got close to the city, Robin took out his grappling hook and shot it up to the rooftops. He flew across the city until he reached the one place he knew he would be safe at least for a short time. After tonight, he didn't know if any place would be safe for him now. Robin entered the safe house and shed his Robin gear. It was over and he knew it. With his mother and grandfather gone, and now his father despising him, Damian had no place to go. There was only one thing he needed to do. He hoped that some day . . . but he knew deep in his heart that it would never happen.

Damian pressed a button on the computer and hit the record button.

'Father,

Please forgive me. I did not mean to . . . I was angry. I know that is no excuse and what I did is . . . unforgiveable. If I could undo it . . . I would. I did not understand . . . why . . . you and Nightwing . . . now I do. I vow never to take a life ever again . . . When you receive this . . . I . . . I will be long gone from this place. You will not see me again. I am unworthy of the name Wayne . . . as I have been unworthy of the name al Ghul since you took me in. I have no name. I am like Cain . . . and I must bear my shame. Goodbye, Father."

Damian did not sign the letter, choosing instead to leave off his name. Looking among the clothing that was often kept at the safe house, Damian found an old pair of jeans and a T-Shirt. He found a backpack and packed a week's worth of food and some extra clothing. He found some money and placed that in the backpack as well. As he was about to leave, his eyes fell on a photo sitting on a shelf. It was an old one that Dick had taken when Damian was 11 years old. Though his face held a scowl, Dick's face beamed. Now that light was gone from the world. Damian picked up the photo and started to place it in the backpack. Instead he took a long look at it, trying to memorize every feature on the older man's face.

'I want to remember him the way he was,' Damian thought. 'I . . . it should have been me . . . It should have been me . . .'

Damian's knees buckled, and he grasped the photograph to his breast. Deep racking sobs filled him. 'Dick, forgive me . . . it should have been me . . .'

End


	21. Saying Three Little Words

A/N: This was inspired by the cemetery scene that by paganpunk2. And reading the comic where Bruce officially declares Dick his son and heir, I just had to write this. Bruce goes to the cemetery to find answers on why he can't say three little words and finds Dick telling his own parents about the adoption.

/

Saying Three Little Words

By

AJ

". . . I love you, too." Dick said in response.

Bruce watched his eldest son move to the changing area to change out of his Nightwing gear. He looked at the paper that now sat on the table . . . Dick's signature now written on the line below his.

'Dick has said those three words countless times to me since he was nine,' Bruce thought, as he slipped the cowl off of his head. 'Why can't I say them even once?' He picked up the paper that officially declared Dick Grayson his son and heir. Images of his own parents came to him and he realized why. 'My father rarely said he loved me in words. It was always with his actions. Is that why? Do actions speak louder than words for me? Will I ever be able to say those words to him? He deserves to hear them. I need to talk to Alfred.'

Bruce moved to the changing area and removed the rest of his uniform. He placed the cowl on its stand then started to place the uniform in the laundry so Alfred could take care of it later when he spotted Nightwing's uniform. A smile spread on his lips. 'How many countless nights did we do this, place our uniforms in the laundry together.'

Images of Jason and Tim came to him and Bruce realized that neither boy had placed their uniform in the laundry with his. Jason would leave his uniform, Dick's former uniform, on the floor and Tim, he would place his on a hanger in the laundry room regardless whether it needed cleaning or not. Tim also took his uniform with him in those earlier days since he still had his parents around. With his adoption by Bruce, Tim resumed his habit of placing his uniform on a hanger and taking it straight to the laundry room. It might save time, but it still set him apart from the others. Dick, though out of habit mingled his uniform with Bruce's . . . as if he was still his partner.

'That came out of nowhere. Was Dick still my partner? Robin is Batman's partner. Tim had pointed that out to me a few of years before. Batman and Robin are partners . . . but that did not preclude that Batman and Nightwing couldn't be partners after all . . . '

And that brought him back to those three little words. 'How can I say them? Do I need to say them? Dick seems to be the one to say them for both of us. He seems to know that I lo . . . I still can't even say them to myself.'

Bruce moved up the stairs to the Manor but did not stop there. He normally would head to the kitchen and Alfred would give him a snack and some decaf coffee before heading to bed. This time it was different. With the night waning and with dawn approaching, he found himself heading toward the back of the Manor and out the back door. His feet carried him across the back lawn to the path under the trees. He walked along the darkened path leading up to the hill beyond the small-forested area to the family cemetery. His feet continued to carry him until he stopped suddenly on the edge when he heard a familiar voice.

" . . . I still can't believe it . . . and yet . . . He said it would not change how he felt if I didn't sign . . . He still understands . . . After all this time . . . I thought . . . I thought he . . . He forgot . . . you know? He said he would never replace you as . . . And he hasn't . . . well" A pause filled the air until the speaker gave out an audible sigh then continued. "I remember the first time he brought me here . . . To think that he did this for me . . . had you brought here from Newtown so I could . . . I hope you don't mind . . . He won't admit it . . . Or at least say anything but . . . the truth of the matter is . . . He is my father now . . . My second father. You will always be my Dad . . ," Dick said to John Grayson. "But I hope you won't mind me calling him Dad now. I . . . I would from time to time . . . And I always wondered if . . . if you didn't mind. I love you both and I miss you still . . . But I love him, too. Do you mind if I say it? I know it's been a long time since I came here. There was so much that's happened. Some of it I'm ashamed to mention . . . I guess I better let you know, but there's something else I need to do first."

Bruce turned back toward the trees once more. He didn't want to intrude. He should have known that Dick would come here to see his parents right after the signing. It was only fitting. There will be another time for him to see his own parents or maybe he would come back later, but before he knew it, Dick's voice came once again to him on the breeze.

"Hi . . . um . . . Mr. and Mrs. Wayne . . . I mean I guess I should be calling you . . . Grandpa and Grandma now . . . Seems kind of awkward. I . . . I never knew my grandparents . . . and well I don't even know where they are even buried . . . They aren't around here . . . that is Gotham, that much I know. Anyway . . . I just wanted to let you know . . . your son is now . . . my . . . officially now . . . my . . . my second Dad. He actually did it . . . after all this time. I remember when he wanted to adopt me . . . tried to adopt me soon after . . . and well CPS wouldn't let him. I didn't understand back then why he wanted to . . . He didn't know me back then . . . At least that's what I thought. I guess he knew me more than I realized. And I guess I know him, too."

Bruce listened once more as Dick's voice paused.

"I want to say I'm sorry for not coming to see you for a while. We've been through a lot . . . Bruce and I . . . We've had our ups and downs and I can't help remembering what he said to me once. That's the way it is . . . between fathers and sons . . . He saw me as his son back even when I first came here . . . There have been times when I felt that I didn't really know Bruce . . . But then . . . He really does understand . . . I guess I know him better than I thought. I still wish he could say . . . But at the same time I know that it's hard for him so . . . I guess I'll keep saying it for both of us. I really do love him . . . Grandpa Thomas . . . Is it okay if I call you that? I . . . I never had a grandfather before . . . Alfred . . . He always seems to be . . . a grandfather . . . I hope you don't mind. I guess . . . I mean I'm sorry I hadn't been around much. A lot has happened. And I guess I'll be telling you about it later, not before I tell my own parents first. Well, I better go. I just wanted to thank you for . . . for having a son like Bruce. He still does things that . . . He's still awesome in my book . . . even when he acts like . . . But I bet you already know that and well . . . He's a hard act to follow . . . you know? I guess when the time comes . . . He really does see me as someone who could fill his shoes . . . But to be honest no one can . . . Even me. And thanks."

Bruce once again had to stifle the tears that threatened to spill after what Dick had said. He quickly moved off the path and under the trees to keep from being spotted as Dick made his way down the path and back to the Manor. He had not realized that Dick had been coming here as often as he could. Moving back on the path after Dick went down to the Manor, Bruce moved up the hill and headed toward his parent's gravesite.

He didn't say much, but what he thought he was certain they would know. 'I guess you know. Well, it was about time. Took me long enough. Meant to do it sooner, but . . . when things happened with Jason . . . I . . . I . . .' Bruce was suddenly ashamed to admit the truth. 'I was afraid of losing him . . . So . . . I . . . pushed him away . . . I realized that was a mistake. Tim made me realize I needed Dick more than . . . And he . . . he is mine . . . that is he's my son . . .' his eyes fell on the headstones of John and Mary Grayson. 'Well he's really their son . . . but I . . . I've learned to . . . Dad . . . Why can't I tell my son . . . three little words . . . the same three little words that you . . . Will I ever be able to say them?'

Bruce felt the shadowy presence that he often felt when his need was great. It was as if they knew he needed them still, but would only come when his need was at its greatest. He looked up to see the ghostly image of his father. He had only seen that image once before in his life . . . the day before he made the decision to adopt Dick.

'Deciding to become a father is our greatest hope and our greatest fear. Once we bring a child into our lives we become something greater than ourselves. We see the world differently than we will ever see it again. That child becomes the center of our world. We want to see that child reach their full potential, but we also want to keep that child safe from harm . . . no matter how small or large . . . no matter how real or imagined. Even so . . . the greatest reward we can ever receive from that child is their love.'

'A child's love . . . my child's love,' Bruce thought. 'John and Mary Grayson's son freely gave his love to me . . . And . . . I gave him . . . my . . . love.'

For the first time since before his parents were killed, Bruce acknowledged the love that was freely given and something inside him opened . . . a door that had been closed for so long. Then something moved out of the darkness . . . a spark of light that wasn't from outside . . . but from within him . . . a small child with a beaming face that he had not seen since that night. 'I love you, Dad,' the child said, and this time, Bruce realized the child was him. He had said those words before . . . The spark grew . . . like a small flame . . . released into the air . . . the flame grew. Hope filled him and Bruce rose once more and just before turning his back on his father's presence he thought, 'There's someone I need to say something to. It's long over due. And it's long over due here, too. I love you Dad, and I miss you. And thanks.'

Bruce moved back through the cemetery, through the trees and back down to the Manor. His steps had a lightness to them that had not been there in ages. And there was a renewed hope.

'May that light be a beacon for all to see, my son,' Thomas Wayne said as he watched his son return home. 'I'm proud of you and I love you, too.'

End


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